Home
by Agent Jemma
Summary: Budapest wasn't just war; it wasn't just fighting either. Budapest was Home.


**Hi everyone! Thanx soo much for reading this, cause barely no one ever reads my stories! Plz review! Thanx! P.S. this is a really long story and has a couple of bad words. Just thought I should tell ya.:)**

Natasha Romanoff sat on the roof of her small, one-room house outside the Red Room facility. It was almost midnight, but a small light cast out from the windows of the other houses. She looked around, her hand picking up the document about a guy she was supposed to shoot down. Not that she didn't want to eliminate a bad-ass 20-year-old guy for the top soldier in the Red Room, it was just at a bad time. Her little six-year old sister had cancer, and she was, well.. _scared._ And she couldn't leave Claire. But she had to. Like she had a choice.

"Hey, Natalia." Natasha turned her head and saw her best friend, James, standing on the edge of the wooden roof. "How ya doin'?" He asked, laying down by her and pulling the blankets up to Nat's shoulders.

"It's just... I'm leaving tomorrow and I don't want... James, promise is my you'll look after Claire for me. Please." Natasha begged him, pleading look in her eyes.

"Yeah, of course." He got up, offering her a had. She took it; but let go to get up by flipping herself over with grace. "I love you, Natalia. Don't forget that." He pulled her into a hug. "Now, get some sleep."

-The next morning...-

Natasha woke up early, putting on her black widow costume and packing for her trip to Hungary. Hungary was fairly cold, so she packed a heavy red russian jacket. She looked at the clock. 5:25 a.m. Damn. She was running late. Natasha grabbed her suitcase and whent of to Claire's bed, where a cute little girl with red hair and a small body was laying. There were a bunch of IV and cancer tubes hanging by her. Natasha bent down, kissing the top of Claire fragile head. "I love you Claire. I'll be gone for at least a day or to, and James will take care of you. So if you need anything, ask him." She said, even though her sister was a sleep. She hugged Claire one last time, running to board her plane.

Once she got to the small plane, she jumped in the back, putting her small suitcase on the floor. Her boss looked over at her, eyes turned into small slits. "Natalie. Do you know what you have to do?"

"Yes, sir."

"O.k. then good luck." The plane took of.

In less than five minutes, Natasha's hair was going every-which-way as she tried to pull her long, red hair into a ponytail. She failed, only to have the ponytail brake. "Shit.." She cussed, jumping as the holder snapped loudly.

"Miss Romanoff, you can jump now!" The pilot yelled over the sound of the engine. Natasha opened the door, letting the wind hit her face and body. She closed her eyes, then jumped. She tumbled in the air, only stopping before she hit the grass. She rolled, moaning as she landed hard on her back. Jumping up, Natasha run towards a small, complex building,in which her culprit was supposedly in. Just be for she opened the door, a voice yelled, " Hey! Lady! Are you comin' or what!" Natasha turned around, just to find a fairly tall guy with dark black hair and an army uniform standing in front of her. "Well, c'mon then, we've got to find you a uniform!" He dragged her away, and, surprisingly, she didn't reject.

A few minutes later, Natasha was standing in a line of soldiers. She scanned the crowd, hoping to find him... Yes! There he was. The guy she was supposed to kill. He was HOT. He had sandy blond hair and he was talk. He had a hell of a lot of muscles and was at least 19. She started at him, just to find him staring back. "Soldiers, today is you first day of war. Today we will train!" That gruff voice stirred Natasha put of her trance. "Hand-to-hand combat is up first. You, and... you! Go!" He pointed at Natasha and that guy she was staring at. They stepped on into the ring, both in a different fighting pose. Him, in a standard American way; her, with one hand higher than the other in a Russian pose. "And...Fight!"

The boy circled around her, and there where cheers of,"Go Barton!" And "Beat that Bitch, Clint!" So Clint Barton. That was his name.

Clint stopped moving, delivering a punch to her jaw. Ow. She cracked her hands, dodging the next few punches. Then she punched him in the stomach, allowing this time to do her famous move. She jumped up, kicking her feet hard at his stomach again, then using her thighs to push him to the ground. Natasha got up, stepping over the barriers. People cheered. Clint got up and sat down on the bleachers by her, ice pack on his head. "H-hi," he stumbled. "I'm Clint. Clint barton." He stuck out his hand.

Natasha made no move to shake it, but said her name anyway. "Natasha Romanoff." Clint put his hand down. She seemed nice enough.

"Soldiers! To bed! Now!"

"But where do we sleep?" A middle-aged guy yelled above the uproar and complaining.

"On the ground. Good nigh, soldiers!" More grumbling. The soldier scattered out, finding nice piles of grass to sleep on. Natasha, who was used to this from the Red Room, just plopped down and placed her head against a tree trunk. Within at least 30 minutes, every soldier was asleep. Exept for Natasha. She was awake, staring at the pink, orange and red sun set that covered the horizon. She pushed herself up, humming a song. Soon she when full-on singing.

"_Settle down, it'll all be clear. Don't pay no mind to the demons they fill you with fear, the trouble it might drag you down, if you get lost you can always be found. Just know you're not alone, I'm gonna make this place your_ _home."_

"Wow." Natasha turned, finding Clint just behind the tree. "Beautiful, dangerous, and has a great voice. You're the full package." He smiled.

"Yeah. I like American songs."

"Like Phillip Phillips?" He questioned, turning his head.

"Yeah. Can you sing?"

"I guess."

"Can I hear you?" Clint smiled again, sitting down by her. He started singing, and his voice was amazing.

"_When life leaves you high and dry, I'll be at your door tonight, if you need hell, if you need hell. When your hope's dangling from a song I'll share in your suffering to make you well, to make you well."_ Now they where both singing, their voices like harmony in the night sky, now filled up with stars.

_"And I will do it for you, for you, Baby im not moving on, I'll love you long after I'm gone. And long after your gone, gone, gone. I'll love you long after you gone, gone, gone."_

"Whoop!" They both smiled as a guy walked up to them and sat down. "Cool. You guys are the bomb! I'm George, by the way. George Solohob." Solohob had Brown hair, was fairly tall with tanned skin and muscles.

"I'm Clint Barton and this is Natasha Romanoff."

"Hey, Natasha, can I call you Romano?"

Natasha smiled. "Like the Russian spaghetti?"

"Yeah!" Solohob put his hands up. "Go spaghetti!" They all laughed, waking several other soldier in the process. Boom! A loud bang woke everybody up.

"Soldiers! You want war? This is it! Grab a weapon and go! Hurry up, damn it!" All the soldiers got up and ran for the armory table, which was stacked high with guns and a various amount of other things. Clint grabbed a bow and arrow set, Natasha got a machine gun and to pistols to put in her holsters at her thighs, and Solohob a bazooka and an M4 glock pistol. They ran into the corn field, just as gun shots sounded and a bunch of troops fell dead or wounded.

"Fuck!" Natasha grinder her teeth as a bullet hit her shoulder. It hurt, but she would have to deal.

"Tasha! You ok?" Clint shouted over the panic and loud gunshots.

"The one time I leave my sister to kill another guy, I get drafted into the army and experience a bunch of Natzi assholes shooting guns and knives at as! What a shitty way to go on a mission!"She stopped to shot some guys, killing a couple others in the processes.

"Not my fault!" Clint was shooting and killing, but soon ran out of arrows and picked up a machine gun from a dead body.

This went of for at least an hour: kick, punch, shoot, stop to pick up a weapon, and shoot again. The war ended in 2 hours. By then, all the soldier that had survived, (not many, about 40 out of the hundred) where gathered in a group, all very tired. Most had a couple of scrapes and big gashes. The ones who had bullet wounds where being treated by nearby soldiers and medics. Natasha gritted her teeth as Solohob cleaned her bullet wound in her shoulder. "Shit.." She mumbled, as Clint took her hand and squeezed it lightly. Soon Solohob was done. They got up, walking past the dead corpses of the bodies of soldiers. Natasha wandered off, touching bad guys with the tip of her boot. "I killed you, and you. Oh, and probably you. You as- ew." She topped by a dead person who had half of his face missing, showing his skull. It had blood around it. You could see a little bit of brain.

"Dang! That motherfucker's Shit, man!" Solohob screeched as he reached to body Natsha was looking at. "Romano, you killed one hell of a guy. But that's war."

Clint took Natsha's hand, guiding her back to the tree that slept by, which was now coated with blood. They sat down anyway. "Fuck. I am now going to have nightmares about that."

Natasha leaned over and hugged Clint. "I'm gonna fight this war, for you, but if you or Solohob die, I'm gonna back out of this. We still have at least a year yet of war. Damn my boss for sending me here. But I'm gonna fight for it."

"Shit, me to." Sohob smiled. "Lets make this place our home."


End file.
